Awareness and Funds
by Jobey in Error
Summary: Why we haven’t heard much about S.P.E.W. lately. Set: 1996, 2006. Characters: p'wned!Hermione, gallant!Ron, Luna!Luna, and an almost-a-good-sort-this-time-around!Rita. Canonicity: DH barely put a scratch on it, even the post-war chapter! 2/2
1. Neither

_Thanks to Possum 132 for setting my imagination off at a tangent that cleared up some of the problems with this fic. Valuable review, his._

**Awareness and Funds**

**I – Neither**

It was late in the evening, dinner an hour past or so, when Ron began to hunt around for Hermione, who had been acting funny most of the day. A small and acrid fire on one of the balconies attracted him, and when he had exposed himself to the cold winter air he found her. She looked stony-faced.

Ron couldn't help thinking odds were good that there was an Educational Degree against students tending fires – and he _knew_ Filch would have a hissing fit.

"Erm… what are you doing?" he asked cautiously.

The reply was fierce. "What does it _look_ like I'm doing?"

"… Burning woolly bladders?"

"Oh, very _good_, Ron, did you work that one out on your own?"

Ron's response was nonverbal, snappishly feinting to flick her ear. "Would your highness care to let me know _why_?"

"No," she said, sulkily – and thirty seconds later was crying. You can imagine Ron's horror. She just plopped to the ground, knees drawn to her chin and face in her hands.

For while it's easier than, say, giving up a bad opinion of someone – admitting you're _wrong_, for crying out loud, giving up the ideal and highest dream of childhood is no picnic either, and only scarcely preferable.

And thus it was a good thing Ron was there to talk her out of it.

Awkwardly he sidled down the wall until he was resting on his ankles next to the wall. "Hey… why don't you, er, calm down a bit… what's the matter?" She looked up just long enough to give her a tear-streaked glare, the most vicious kind. "Okay, or don't tell me. But… um… stop crying…" _Because you're freaking me out_, he added mentally. _And I can't offer to make a pot of tea, and I don't really think it helps when I try it anyway._

"I can't tell you," she said, "because you'll l-laugh at me…"

"No I won't," he said earnestly, relieved that there would be a frivolous note to all of this and that Hermione was already getting over her crying spell. "Promise I won't."

Hermione sniffed. "Yes, you will."

Ron agreed with her that he would give her a free shot at hexing him if he laughed, and – more seriously – that he would never, ever tell anyone, in exchange for the reassurance that "it wasn't a girl-type problem."

"Okay," said Hermione once these negotiations were over, taking a deep breath. She gave him one last suspicious look but something in his expression must have satisfied her. "Well. You know S.P.E.W."

Having been prepared and forewarned and threatened, Ron didn't crack a smile or a joke. "Right."

"Well" – and here Hermione looked down and started picking at the skin around her fingernail – "it seems we have a new member."

"Hey… hey, that's great," said Ron, nodding encouragingly. "So someone else is interested?"

Hermione nodded, still determinedly not meeting his eye. "Luna Lovegood."

Ron did valiant battle with a broad grin. He really did.

"I knew it! I knew it!" Hermione stood up furiously, trying to point at him but winding up a good foot off. "I knew you would laugh at me! Very _funny_, isn't it?"

Ron's ankles had given out on him and he was sprawled against the wall. He had to hide his face in his knees. "It's not funny. Who's laughing? Not me."

"Well, that's me shown up, isn't it?" Hermione huffed, with something of a sob still in it. "_Apparently she'll only believe in things if there's no proof at all._ Well, I deserve it, come on, laugh."

In point of fact, Ron hadn't remembered her saying that – if he had ever paid attention to it in the first place – but that put an even funnier spin on it. It took deep sources of manliness to conquer all the jibes and laughter welling up in him, to instead stand and say calmly, "Nope. I'm not laughing. Look at me, am I? I'm not going to say a word."

Hermione had to sniff again. "You know, Luna only heard about it from Ginny. I'll bet Ginny set this all up as a big joke."

"Yeah," said Ron, ruefully. "That's possible. C'mon, Hermione, get over it. Luna might be a good addition to S.P.E.W. She could bring in lots more – uh – good ideas."

Privately he was thinking that she would probably dress up as a house-elf and talk in third person for a while to show her new allegiance. Which would actually be pretty entertaining.

Hermione shrugged.

"Hey, put out that fire now, would you? I don't want to make the Bumsnifforial Squad's day by giving them a chance to dock Gryffindor about a thousand points."

"There's nothing wrong with setting a small, controlled fire in the open on school grounds," said Hermione petulantly. But she did douse it, and Vanished the charred remains of the clothes. They began to walk along aimlessly. "So do you think I should tell Luna that we can have a meeting Monday, or that S.P.E.W. has been officially disbanded?"

"Erm…" Ron wondered why he was the authority for this sort of decision. "Dunno. I'll tell you what, though," he said brightly, "since you can't meet in groups of over three people without asking the dear old toad permission – and I don't think Umbridge with her track record is going to be too sympathetic to our manifesto – I hereby volunteer to sit out the meeting."

She glared at him again, but – whew! – it was with mixed with pent-in laughter, not tears.

"Really," he said, mock-earnestly. "I will sacrifice myself for the good of the cause. I'm sure Harry will agree to as well. Because we're pals, Hermione, we'll do that for you."

"Oh, thanks _ever_ so." She huffed one of their familiar companionable huffs. (Whew! thought Ron. So that hadn't turned out too badly – she was no longer crying and he had _not _gotten hexed after all.)

---

The second meeting of the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare took place at 7:00 on 23 April, 1995, A.D., in the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Minutes by Acting Secretary Luna Lovegood.

"Well, so far as I can see, the key to our short-term success – "

"Wait a minute," interrupted Luna. "What about roll call?"

Hermione blinked. It was only the two of them at the end of the mostly-abandoned Gryffindor table. "Luna. It's just you and me."

"That's so," agreed Luna, writing slowly and precisely. "Harry's not here… that's why I'm acting secretary… and Treasurer Weasley is also absent… Okay." She looked up brightly. "We're ready now."

"Right." Yet Luna was waiting expectantly. "And what else?" asked Hermione grumpily.

"As president, would you like to call the meeting to order?"

"Er… this meeting is officially called to order?"

If possible, Luna sat up even straighter. She was wearing a polka dot beret on which she had attached her brand-new S.P.E.W. badge. (It had taken a long time for her to obtain the badge, as Hermione hadn't accepted foreign Wizarding money and Luna had taken a while to find any other kind.)

Hermione picked up her thread again: "I think the key to our short-term success – and to be quite honest we need some short-term success if we're ever going to have long-term success…" Hermione shrugged pragmatically. "The key is to raise awareness within our own generation. There is little chance of moving the hearts of the current establishment. It's up to us to nurture and raise up a new one that has some concern for elf rights."

"Why is there little chance of moving the hearts of the current establishment?" asked Luna seriously.

"… What do you suggest we do? If it's to write the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures, I've already done it thirty-seven times." She considered. "Thirty-eight if you count the one I wrote about the unfairness of Buckbeak's trial. But it was pretty emotional and incoherent, and I'd rather not remember it."

"We could take over the Ministry by storm," said Luna.

The horrible part about it was that she was deadly in earnest. As Hermione had learned, Luna took the house-elf injustice even less lightly than she herself. "I don't think that's practical."

"Oh, I don't mean _really_," said Luna. "Only it's a fun phrase, isn't it? 'Take by storm'? But we _could_ drug the pertinent workers within the Department and issue new regulations with their seals. Daddy has some contacts that can sneak us into the Ministry."

"No," said Hermione flatly, once she had recovered. "We're a legitimate organisation. We want to change the law, not undermine it."

There was an awkward moment where both of them idly fingered the different pamphlets Hermione had made over the past year that colourfully littered the table between them. Finally Hermione cleared her throat.

"The second point," she said, "is funding. It's a vicious catch-22. To sponsor a really attention-grabbing event we need money, and before we can get money we need people's attention."

"I'm rather good at getting attention," said Luna thoughtfully. "At least that's what everyone always tells me."

"I meant… more… _positive_ attention."

"Daddy says any publicity is good publicity. Not that he cares about publicity for _The Quibbler_," Luna hastened to add, "but he says it's the driving force of any business he writes about… But why are we talking about money anyway? Isn't this a distraction from our real business here?"

"But to fund printing and events," said Hermione, pained. "I don't have unlimited private resources."

Luna shook her head seriously. "No. We have to ditch that sort of thinking. The house-elves need our direct action, not the grandeur of our organisation."

"You really do care about the elves, don't you." (Surely – _surely_ – she didn't sound this ridiculous when speaking of them herself!)

"I can't think of any more important modern cause," said Luna, "except perhaps stopping Bernie Botts, Inc. from using goblin remains in its manufacturing."

"I'm sure Botts… wait, Luna, that's disgusting!"

"I know," said Luna, shaking her head darkly. "But the suffering of the living is even worse than the desecration of the dead. I'm _so_ glad you started on this, Hermione. And once I share in the research you've been doing I can write an article this summer. Daddy doesn't let me during the school year… he wants me to concentrate on my coursework… but he'll surely throw the weight of _The Quibbler_ behind S.P.E.W."

Her eyes were shining.

Hermione began to feel a bit sick to her stomach. There had been a certain magic of their own in these pamphlets and badges that she had pored over and treasured and used to dream of overarching justice. But now as she picked up her copy of the manifesto and fiddled with it… for the first time it felt… silly… like when she was a little girl dressed up in mummy's high heel shoes and a long feather boa. S.P.E.W. would survive this disillusion, but it was necessary that the disillusion come and be battled through. Dreams have to hit unwelcome ground sooner or letter if they're ever to come within a dragonspan of reality.

---

Came a day when Hermione overheard Luna explaining her S.P.E.W. badge to the idle, pointing curious in much the same way not a month before she'd had to explain the significance of the odd-smelling sachet she had been wearing around her neck (it would begin to infuse her with the scent of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack in readiness for an expedition she hoped to take the next summer). If ever there was a chance that Hermione would simply give up altogether, that would have been the day.

Lucky for elfish welfare she was made of more resilient stuff than _that_. Also lucky that she was quite too busy at the moment to worry too much about it at all. The dream could go safely into hibernation. The results when it emerged from the cocoon and stretched its wings deserve another chapter.


	2. Both

**Awareness and Funds II**

**II – Both**

And so, it being only scarcely preferable, Hermione didn't.

In fact you might go so far as to say she went full speed ahead in the other direction and did give up the bad opinion of Luna, who was now the official spokeswitch for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare.

This had been a good decision all around, because Luna had become something of a media celebrity, liked by few but loved by reporters. (Whereas reporters had always been especially uninterested in Hermione's statements.) They could get in the papers any time they wanted.

Still, there was good cause for Hermione to get painful jitters before each and every convention. She pulled at her robes nervously (whoever had designed this latest fashionable cut was the one person deserving of slow torture) and kept reminding Luna to look at the Points.

"You do _have_ them, don't you?" Hermione hissed, before again flashing a smile at a potential donator.

"Of course I do. They're inside my left shoe."

Hermione didn't even bat an eye, except to say, "I'd really feel much better if they were out and you were reading them."

"I know them backwards and forwards, Hermione."

"Yes, well. _Do_ say them forwards, won't you?"

Luna considered this while they shook hands with a Belgian couple who kept pointing at the various flyers. "Well," she said, after having answered their questions, "I'll say them forwards this time. But – and don't reject this out of hand – perhaps one time we _should_ try saying them backwards. People would then be forced to decipher them on their own… if you engage a person's whole and interactive attention you make a far greater impression… I saw that look. But all the advertisement people agree with me."

"We'll see. Let's get through tonight first."

Hermione was as excited as she was nervous. This was the first year they had managed to completely pack their annually-rented ballroom with witches, wizards, and elves. Even some higher-up types from the Ministry kept dropping in for a few minutes – at least long enough to sign the guestbook. Even Rita Skeeter looked happy. When insider rights and information on S.P.E.W. had been originally forced upon her she hadn't imagined it would ever lead to a story worth her time.

There was now a knot of reporters. Time for the speechifying. Hermione told Luna good luck rather tensely, but once Luna was actually at the podium, smiling vaguely and composedly, Hermione relaxed completely – sat down, crossed her legs comfortably, and watched with relish.

As usual, Luna was about to mow them down.

"Good morning," she began. (It was eight o'clock at night.) "We're here about house-elves, you know. Although surprisingly few wizards have ever seen them – " Hermione winced but Luna did _not_ mention her favourite new statistic, than more wizards had an eyewitness sighting of the wereweasel than of an actual house-elf – "they're the ones that do a lot of our cooking and cleaning and a couple of other things I don't really know how to do." (There was the beginning of some polite laughter before they saw that Luna was not asking for laughs, but carrying on with all seriousness.) "Even if you're not one of the rich families that have one, you've probably been at an inn or something serviced by an elf. And there's a few at Hogwarts, I think the number's one hundred or something like that…" Luna looked down at the Points. "…so anyone who ever attended there owes a good deal to them." She looked up again, smiled, and began to twirl a bit of her hair around her finger while she leaned forward casually on her elbow.

"Most elves don't get paid. Right now there's five in this country that do. There would be six, but one died in the war. That's another Point, too. Several elves died in that war thingy we just had protecting their family. There's some child 'round here tonight who owes his life to the defence of a family elf. I don't really remember his name, but he's a chatterbox so I'm sure if you come across him tonight he'll let you know who he is.

"The elves that make this sort of sacrifice of death and dishwater hands don't really ask us wizards who benefit for anything, really. Even some of the rather independent ones get a bit ill at the thought of too much holiday time." Luna shrugged. "But that's no excuse on our part for not giving them anything. And it's really very awful that some people treat them so badly and all. There's plenty of reports of elves being beaten or jinxed. I can't see as there's any reason for that. There's no much of an excuse for treating living things that way anyway, and it's not like the elves have ever disobeyed or anything. Because they _really_ don't." Hermione had been thinking this entire time _Look at the Points! Look at the Points!_ Thankfully, Luna did. "Oh, right." She cleared her throat a bit. It didn't sound all too impressive. "Some people say that this sort of mistreatment doesn't happen and what would we know because we're just non-elf-owning scum?" (Sensation from some of the politely visiting opposition.) "But it's kind of funny that everyone talked about it freely before S.P.E.W. came along and only denied it once we started gaining some influence. That's all."

More sensation yet. Luna mistook it. "What's all the commotion?" she said vaguely. "Oh, you're laughing at our name. Some people do think it's pretty funny. You should have heard what my friend Ronald used to say about it. But it very much hurts the president's feelings… so if everyone would please refrain… after all," she finished, abruptly stern, "has anyone ever considered what the acronym for the British Ministry of Magic means in Shublugese?"

"What's it mean?" queried one of those thin-voiced, anonymous sort of reporters.

Luna giggled. "Something I can't have you repeating in a family newspaper. My family's in the business as well, you know, and we have high standards about that sort of thing.

"… So where were we? Well, I don't know what much else there is to say. If you ask me some questions now I'm sure you'll hit on something I forgot. I'm not very good at this sort of thing. Let me just look over the president's notes quick… oh, right," she said, looking up and beaming proudly. "One of our thingies here tonight is to ask for your pecuniary assistance. (That means we're trolling for money, you know.) We don't need much. But it costs something to print up all the paper we use for flyers and to write the Ministry… and to continue our legal challenges to the status of elves as beasts… and to pay the five emancipated house-elves who give generously of their time to S.P.E.W… and who really don't have a position just now…" Luna shrugged sadly. "And that's all, I suppose. Please everyone here tonight who has contact with house-elves treat them with respect. Any questions?"

First there was a thunderous round of applause. Luna smiled happily. It was always a delightful surprise to her each time to realise that people liked her S.P.E.W. speeches. Hermione was growing less surprised by it. She supposed it was because Luna talked to the crowd so conversationally. Hermione knew that she, herself, was much more of a lecturer… even in her conversations.

Luna nodded to a reporter, who said, "I don't believe I caught your name at any point, ma'am." (Luna never did remember introductions. It would be an improvement in oratory if everyone else did too.)

Rita Skeeter's aggressive voice retorted: "Names and numbers are all on the little complimentary flyers, find a better question if you like to waste time treating us all to the mellifluent sound of your own voice, you hack."

Giggles and titters. Hermione smiled supremely and decided to treat Rita to a drink afterwards.

"I – I – " The Hack gaped and then rallied, sneering: "So what sort of question does someone with your seasoned and dare I say _chequered_ career ask?"

Skeeter rounded on Luna. "You spoke of house-elves' sacrifices in the recent war for their families. What do you say to those who counter that paying house-elves will make them mere hired hands and diminish their famed loyalty?"

Luna's voice, unexpectedly, could go flinty when angered. It wasn't something she could consciously do at all, but deadly when it happened.

"Well… I'd say those sort of people don't know house-elves very well. House-elves will always be house-elves. S.P.E.W. and its supporters are merely suggesting that we wizards cease to be nargles and start being amiabillins."

"What're nargles and amiabillins?" someone called back swiftly.

Luna smiled. "Rewarding subjects for a lifetime's worth of study and devotion! Next, please."

A non-reporter raised her hand. Luna nodded to her. "Oh, yes, anyone can ask… the real people often ask better questions than the reporters…" (Another polite laugh, another realisation that she had not meant it a bit humourously.)

"How many members does S.P.E.W. have now?"

"Oh, I don't know exactly… I'm sure Hermione had it put on one of the flyers somewhere…" Luna raised a hand vaguely. "It's enough that it's making all the postage get a little pricey… S.P.E.W. originally started out with three members, you know, and one of them was Harry Potter… sorry," she said, with a slight blush, "but I'm always told to name-drop until we gain wider respectability or whatever… I was the fourth member and we were stuck at that number from some time. We really took off four years ago with our sponsored scrub of the Leaky Cauldron. People would much rather pressure for rich people to just pay the house-elves than worry about ever having to do it themselves… There's nothing altruistic about it... anyway I _think _it was four years ago, it was at any rate the year that we had that early spring weather and than that frost on Mayday… I'm sorry, am I off-topic?" She blinked confusedly. A belligerent-sounding guest rescued her:

"All these scare-stories about a house-elf revolt sound awfully far-fetched to a lot of people. Granted that some of them are mistreated by their owners, do you really think _house-elves_ are going to start raising a rebellion?"

"Well, no one would ever have expected those nice goblins to uproot their relations with wizards during the last war, now would they have?"

"Not to be rude," said the wizard, rather rudely, "but… uh… goblins have rebellions pretty regularly. You _did_ have five years of History of Magic, didn't you?"

"Oh yes," said Luna politely. "I dropped it soon as I could, of course… it was terribly… _factual_… not to mention heavily bowdlerized by controlling interests. But, about the house-elves, I think it's naïve to have any sort of creature, even house-elves, suffer as they have for so long, and what with all the examples of war-waging they've received from us… and they're very magically powerful, so it's a ridiculous risk our society has run so long… and if _they_ don't revolt, I assure you Hermione – our president – will probably revolt for them, so it's much easier to just obey the voice of conscience, because she can be a bit frightening when worked up."

There was the standard reporter looking for the human-interest angle.

"Is it true that necklace you're wearing a token of respect from one of the house-elves aided by S.P.E.W.?"

Luna looked down at the necklace. "Oh, no… I made it myself… it's nice, isn't it?" she asked complacently, holding it up for a moment so that people could see the carefully twined onion rings.

Hermione shrugged, smiled, and sipped her gillywater. Any publicity was good publicity. And she _had_ forced Luna to enchant it beforehand to banish the smell.

**fin. hope you enjoyed.**


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